


Calm Waters, If that Serves You Best

by PrinceofHellebore (PrinceofPlants)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Undefined Relationship, dont know what else to tag, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27900325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceofPlants/pseuds/PrinceofHellebore
Summary: Zolf comforts Wilde after the conversation he has with Hamid about his loss of magic and saving the world.
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	Calm Waters, If that Serves You Best

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever think about how Wilde slumps into his bunk after talking to Hamid in ep 164. Because I do, all the time. Also what if Zolf and Wilde weren't repressed pinning idiots and could offer each other physical comfort without having an identity crisis. I like to give myself nice things.
> 
> Title from Sleeping at Last _Atlas: Two_

Zolf knocks on the door.

Wilde’s voice comes muffled from inside, “yes.” He sounds short tempered. 

Zolf has become accustomed to Wilde’s moods and how they do and don’t manifest in his voice. “It’s Zolf.” Wilde could decide for himself whether or not he wished to see him.

It takes a few seconds before Wilde responds and it is quieter than the first imperious syllable Zolf had received. “Come.”

Wilde isn’t at his desk, instead he is lying in his bunk with his back to the middle of the room. Zolf shuts the door before speaking. 

“You okay?” he asks, softly. 

“Well enough. Hamid was just here.” Wilde pitches his words in such a way as to sound light and airy, carefree. It's unconvincing. 

Zolf crosses the few strides to the bunk. Wilde glances at him out of the corner of his eye without otherwise moving. The fingers of one hand are twisted into his forelock. It is a sign, Zolf recognizes, of Wilde barely coping. 

“Budge up,” Wilde does, scooting closer to the wall. Zolf lays down behind him cushioning his head on his folded arm. With his free hand, Zolf reaches out and combs his fingers into the hair at the back of Wilde’s head. He gently closes his fist and tugs before repeating the gesture. Zolf has found that Wilde is best served by being drawn out and the best way has always been touch. After a few times Wilde relaxes, his shoulders unclench from their scrunched protective position. 

The alignment of their bodies allows Zolf to lean his thigh across Wilde’s waist. Zolf knows the weight of it helps. After a moment Wilde turns into it so that they fit together. Wilde has done as much for Zolf before. It’s not the same. Zolf doesn’t like to be touched or talked to when he’s in a mood, but it helps if Wilde comes and lies back to back with him and acts like a silent but warm wall.

“What did he say?” Zolf feels that its safe enough now to ask that. 

“A variety of things, he asked about the cuffs.” Zolf freezes. He knows the cuffs are a difficult subject for Wilde. It was something they had stopped talking about a long time ago. Wilde had pursued answers and found none that were useful or actionable. And then from Japan, they were too distant to learn or do more. Zolf moves on to stroking Wilde’s hair back from his face, extracting it from the tangle of Wilde’s fingers. 

“I miss it, Zolf. I miss it every day.” Zolf knew Wilde had bad days coping with the loss of his magic, particularly on their travels when the lack had made jobs that much harder, made him need to be protected, left him vulnerable. It hadn’t bothered him so much since establishing their headquarters at the the inn, at least not that Zolf had seen.

“I’m used to that though. I just… today, talking to him I realized I had accepted it. Accepted that it wasn’t something I would get to have again.” 

Zolf didn’t know what to say, there were things that could be done, just not with the world in the state that it was, not with the resources they had, not when the mission they pursued was so vital. 

“I don’t see that. You work so hard for this mission, you’ve never given up. That tells me that you believe the world can be saved. The cuffs, your curse is a part of that. They did this to you to stop you and it hasn’t. I wasn’t there when Grizzop found you but Azu and Hamid told me what he told them. You fought it, refused to give in. The cuffs are just a tool, they are your shield, your defense and as much as it is terrible and heavy to carry, I’m glad you are still here doing so.” 

“I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’m tired too.” It’s something they’ve been telling each other, just each other, because it’s nice that someone else knows. Zolf continues to stroke Wilde’s hair. It is soft and parts around his fingers as easily as running water. Wilde puts a hand on Zolf’s thigh, pulls slightly and Zolf relaxes so that the full weight of his leg rests across Wilde’s waist and belly. Wilde leaves his hand. 

They lay together for half an hour but Zolf has duties he cant neglect longer. 

“Are you alright if I go?” he asks.

“Yes, First Mate Smith, I'm fine.” There’s irony back in the tone of his voice, it's deliberately creating distance between them but it's also permission to go and a promise that Wilde really is fine. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Love,  
> Prince of Hellebore


End file.
